


An Angel's Trip to Hell

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale, Caning, Cock Rings, Figging, Forced Effort Changing, Fucking Machines, Hole caning, Humiliation, Minor Cock and Ball Torture, Nipple Clamps, Non-Consensual Spanking, Other, Paddling, Public Disicpline, Public Humiliation, Pussy Spanking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suppository, Too Kinky to Torture, accidental aphrodisiac, hole spanking, public spanking, spanking machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Aziraphale stands accused of lusting for a demon, so the Archangel Gabriel drags him down to Hell for a dose of discipline from Hell's infamous machine. Aziraphale is worried that Crowley will see and be disgusted. Crowley, however, is equal parts horrified, guilt-ridden, and aroused.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 253





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship here ended up in a totally different place than the previous spanking machine fic I wrote [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850107/chapters/50363441), so consider this "Hell has a spanking machine AU #2"

“You coming?” a stout demon asked, hurrying past Crowley as they made their way down the dark, dank hallway of Hell.

“Huh? Coming where?” Crowley wondered if he’d missed a memo about some meeting. The probability was high.

The demon - Crowley couldn’t remember his name - made an exasperated face. “The Public Discipline? In the courtroom today?”

“Oh, uhhh, sure, yeah … ” Crowley nodded as though he had known all about it and merely forgotten. To be fair, he would much prefer to forget Hell’s nasty little _machine_ after spending an excruciating afternoon strapped into it himself. “Eh, I think I’ll pass today. Maybe next time.”

The demon was aghast. “Really? But it’s an angel!”

It was Crowley’s turn to look shocked, his jaw dropping. “Wh-what?”

“Yeah! I heard an Archangel brought down one of their own!” The demon was inching away, eager to be off. “Well, I’d better get going or I won’t get a good seat!” 

_It can’t be._ Icy fear washed over Crowley and he found himself numbly following the demon down the hallway, heart in his throat. The viewing room behind the large window to the courtroom was packed with rowdy demons, all pushing, shoving, clawing and biting in an effort to get an unfettered view. Crowley took off his sunglasses and glared, causing the other demons to quickly part and create a path for him as he made his way to the front. For once was thankful of his unsavory reputation as Satan’s favored.

Beelzebub was lounging on the throne, looking as bored as usual with Dagon at attention beside them. Crowley recognized the Archangel Gabriel standing a few feet away, arms crossed, his face a picture of disgust as he took in his surroundings, clearly finding them lacking. A raised platform between the throne and the window held _the_ machine, and Crowley’s body shuddered involuntarily. It was more or less the same as the last time he’d seen it, but it wasn’t like he’d gotten a good look at the thing while _in_ it.

Gabriel nodded to someone out of view, and a disposable demon dragged in a terrified angel chained by the wrists. A pudgy, white-haired angel in a tan suit and a tartan bow tie.

 _Aziraphale_. Crowley instinctively reached out, putting his hands on the glass, but there was nothing he could do, really. Nothing that wouldn’t make it a million times worse for both of them. So he stood, paralyzed and useless, and watched.

Aziraphale was pulled up onto the platform, and the demon unfastened the chains, freeing his hands. The demon said something Crowley couldn’t hear to Aziraphale, and the angel blanched, face turning pink as he looked nervously towards the crowd of leering demons. His eyes swept past Crowley, but didn't seem to see him. Aziraphale then gave Gabriel a desperate, pleading look.

“Do as he says,” Gabriel said, face stern.

Aziraphale’s hands were shaking as he began to undress, keeping his eyes downcast as he untied, unbuttoned, and unfastened the many layers of excessively fussy, outdated clothing. Crowley snarled at a couple demons nearby who wolf-whistled at the skin of Aziraphale’s pale, plump torso. When Aziraphale was standing in only his tartan socks and cream colored boxers, he dithered for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then he bent over to pull off his socks, hopping a bit as he did so, making his little tits jiggle and the watching demons snicker. Then, with what appeared to be a great effort, his face pink and blotchy, he hurriedly pushed his pants down and off, revealing a tuft of light blond curls below the lower swell of his belly. He crossed his hands demurely in front of his mons, chin wobbling and eyes shiny with unshed tears.

Dagon stepped forward and began to speak, her voice echoing in the space as though she were using a megaphone. “Welcome! We have a very special punishment today. Heaven has asked to borrow our machine to discipline the Principality Aziraphale. Now, I know it’s not every day we get to see an angel disciplined, but please control yourselves and remain behind the viewing glass at all times. Archangel Gabriel, do you have anything to add?”

“Don’t go easy on him. You know what’s at stake and what he is accused of. The punishment should always fit the crime. We brought him down here, because we believe you have the tools at your disposal to impart a fitting and memorable lesson. I really hope we haven’t wasted our time coming down for this.”

Beelzebub grinned. “You’ll zzzzee. Hell doezzn’t fuck around, goody two wingzz. Not like Heaven with your little mild spankingzz. He’ll get a proper retribution here, and I guarantee he won’t forget the lezzzzon.”

Aziraphale shivered in the damp, chilly air, goosebumps rising on his naked skin. If the Prince of Hell truly thought Heaven’s _reprimands_ were mild, then Aziraphale’s goose (or bottom, rather) was cooked! 

Dagon continued, “The Principality Aziraphale is accused of lusting for a demon. Get into position, please.”

Aziraphale’s face burned scarlet, and he desperately hoped Crowley wasn’t present as he turned his chubby bare bottom to the audience, eliciting a surge of catcalls from the crowd. It would be beyond mortifying to have his deepest, darkest secret revealed in this manner to Crowley. Aziraphale had planned to keep his secret for eternity since there was simply no way Crowley would ever return Aziraphale’s feelings. 

He reluctantly bent over the padded bolster of the machine, which was relatively comfortable, all things considered. His wrists and ankles were instantly bound, and a leather strap was fastened across his lower back. He wriggled a bit, testing the bonds, and found he could barely move. The entire apparatus then lifted and tilted him forward, raising his buttocks high. The air rippled in front of Aziraphale’s line of sight and he was greeted by an image that he knew was his own shockingly pale white bottom and the coral pink lips peeking between his ample thighs. He squeezed his legs together, head absolutely buzzing with embarrassment. Crowley would surely be disgusted to see him like this - his pale, pudgy backside exposed so openly for punishment. To see how soft and lacking Aziraphale truly was.

“He will be paddled, figged and caned, and finally drilled,” Dagon announced.

Aziraphale understood what _some_ of those nasty punishments entailed, but others remained a foreboding mystery. He began to tremble.

“Give me sixty seconds on the clock, please.”

“Ninety,” Gabriel interrupted, and Beelzebub raised their eyebrows. “ _Some_ angels need a firmer hand than others, as I’m sure _you all_ well know.”

“Ninety seconds, then,” Dagon amended, voice remaining impassive.

Crowley ground his teeth. This whole thing was completely absurd and outrageously unfair. There was simply _no way_ that Aziraphale had lusted for him (and he was quite certain Aziraphale had never fraternized with any _other_ demons, so Heaven must have the wrong idea about Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship.) Heaven was sorely mistaken if they thought Aziraphale would be interested in Crowley like _that_. Aziraphale was being punished for simply being kind, and Crowley’s heart panged with guilt. Crowley had been the one lusting, after all. Perhaps he should have left Aziraphale alone all those years instead of seeking him out for his own selfish desire to be near the angel.

Crowley’s current view of Aziraphale’s shapely naked backside was absolutely _not_ helping to assuage Crowley’s lust in the slightest, however. He kept licking his lips, throat dry and breath coming quickly as he tried not to stare like a slack-jawed, drooling idiot at those perfectly plump buttocks and that enticing pink pussy. But there was simply nowhere else to look, and he soon had to readjust himself in his now far too tight trousers.

Crowley held his breath as an arm of the machine raised a nasty looking paddle; large, wooden and covered in little blister-holes. It smacked down with a mighty _crack!_ across the wide expanse of Aziraphale’s backside, his buttocks rippling as the lily white skin turned pale pink from the impact. Aziraphale’s body tensed and then he howled, clenching his bottom in pained desperation. The machine, of course, was completely impartial to his reaction, delivering a second swat just below the first. No matter how much Aziraphale tensed, wiggled, or shrieked, the machine just kept on spanking, delivering smack after brutal smack. The arm moved up and down as it went to ensure that the paddle spanked and reddened Aziraphale’s bottom from the upper rounded crests, down to the top of the backs of his thick thighs.

The blood rushed in Crowley’s ears, and though he was aware of the hoots and hollers from his fellow demons in the audience, he could only focus on the _crack! crack! crack!_ of the paddle and Aziraphale’s distraught squeals and cries. It all seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the pale skin darken from pink to red, the plump flesh jiggling like strawberry jelly with every pop of the paddle. 

Aziraphale was alternating between frantic wriggling of his hips and futile clenching of his buttocks which put on a maddening little peep show of his shiny pink cunt. Crowley stared in awe as the clock counted down ( _twenty more seconds to go_ ), his belly roiling with guilt while his traitorous cock throbbed so hard he worried he might make a mess in his trousers.

Aziraphale let out a plaintive wail at yet another stinging, bruising smack of the paddle against his poor bottom. Though he knew his tormentors were deaf to his pleas and that the machine would continue until the clock struck zero, he couldn’t help the sounds wrenched from him with every stroke of that wicked implement. His bottom burned blazing hot, and he sniffled, blinking away the tears in his eyes to see that there were only eight seconds left on the clock. _Thank goodness_. The image of his bottom was a terrible sight - both rounded buttocks dark red with a crop of excruciating white blisters along his sit-spots. He knew those would be torture for days to come, and he certainly wouldn’t be sitting comfortably any time soon. Gabriel had even warned him in advance that if Aziraphale even _thought_ about healing his punishment, he would find himself strapped back in the machine for double what he was getting today. Ninety seconds of paddling was proving to be unbearable - he couldn’t even imagine the agony of getting twice that!

The final paddle swat smacked as the clock hit zero, and Aziraphale slumped in relief. His entire backside throbbed hot, swollen, and sore, but it was over. The _first_ portion of his punishment, at least, he remembered with a spike of fear in his chest. Without the relentless paddling to distract him, he was also once again very aware that his naked behind was displayed to a crowd of demons, and his tear-stained cheeks burned nearly as red as his bottom.

Dagon spoke again, “The Archangel will administer the Hellfire root per his request and then the caning will commence.”

Aziraphale’s arsehole tightened defensively at that. He was plenty well read to be familiar with figging. He’d always taken a (purely academic) interest in the proclivities of the Victorian Age, after all.

From his vulnerable position, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Gabriel was putting on gloves. Dagon then handed him what appeared to be several inches of a thick peeled vegetable root, carved into a phallus, the flesh of it mottled red and white. It looked quite a bit like ginger, but - what had Dagon called it? Hellfire root? A sheen of nervous sweat broke out across Aziraphale’s forehead.

With a smug smirk on his face, Gabriel approached, circling out of sight behind Aziraphale who shivered in apprehension. Aziraphale could see in the video as well as feel when Gabriel placed his large gloved hand on his well-paddled left buttock and then pulled it to the side, stretching him wide open. Aziraphale stared in wonder at the image of his puckered arsehole framed by tufts of white hair. Gabriel rubbed the end of the Hellfire root firmly up and down along Aziraphale’s crack, and it felt surprisingly cool on his intimate skin. Gabriel finally stopped, pressing the tip of the root dead center against Aziraphale’s tiny hole and Aziraphale automatically clenched.

“I’d suggest you relax, Sunshine,” Gabriel said, voice somehow both soft and threatening. “It’s going in whether you want it to or not.”

Gabriel pushed and the smooth root easily breached Aziraphale’s anus, making him yelp as it popped past the sphincter. Gabriel twisted and wiggled the tapered dart as he worked it deeper and deeper until nearly the full of it was lodged up Aziraphale’s rectum. Only the round bulbous end stuck out between his dark red buttocks.

All the while, Gabriel spoke loudly, partly to Aziraphale, but also for the benefit of the crowd. “Dabbling with a denizen of Hell is like playing with fire, Aziraphale. Sooner or later you’re bound to get burned. Consider this a little preview of the inferno that awaits if you remain on this foolish path. Let this be a lesson to help you think better of your unholy and unnatural desires.”

As Gabriel finished his lecture, the previously cool sensation suddenly ignited into blazing Hellfire inside Aziraphale’s arsehole. He sucked in a breath and his body went rigid as wave after wave of what felt like burning flames licked him between his bottom-cheeks.

Gabriel bent to murmur in his ear, “I hear demon spunk burns even worse than this, so I’d think twice before spreading your legs for that disgusting monster if I were you.”

Gabriel gave his bottom a sharp smack before he walked away, and the shot of fire that accompanied his instinctive clench made him yowl.

“The Principality Aziraphale will now receive twelve strokes of the cane,” Dagon said.

A large “12” appeared above the image of Aziraphale’s bottom, and he began to blubber before anything even started. The machine arm was now equipped with a nasty looking cane which snapped down across the center of Aziraphale’s bottom. The angel’s cries spiked into a shriek as a thin line of fire erupted where the cane had struck his already tenderized skin. Aziraphale spent the next eleven strokes fighting the urge to clench his buttocks against the unbearable sting of the cane lest he reignite the scorching hot root incinerating his poor arsehole. He compromised with what amounted to some very undignified wailing and begging.

Aziraphale barely even noticed when the cane had stopped striking him as he lay bound and panting, face wet and red from his sobs. His entire backside blazed like a four-alarm fire, radiating heat as though it had been blow-torched. He kept still and compliant as the root was pulled free from his anus, the relief insignificant while his behind still throbbed so hot. He was humility incarnate, a picture of castigation, and he felt so terribly naughty and punished with his bright red, sore bottom showcased to all those demons of Hell.

Crowley had chewed his bottom lip to bleeding from trying to quell the possessive, growling rage that had bloomed at the Archangel Gabriel touching Aziraphale. He was now completely unable to tear his eyes away from Aziraphale’s thoroughly roasted rump. The twelve perfectly parallel pink tram lines from top to bottom were a striking sight, and Crowley could only imagine how much stinging agony Aziraphale had suffered in sustaining them. Aziraphale’s bottom was puffy, red, and looked unbelievably sore. While Crowley’s heart ached for the angel’s suffering, the spectacle had hardened Crowley’s cock to near bursting. He had half a mind to excuse himself for a quick wank, but the shame over his obviously depraved appetite kept him rooted to the spot. Not to mention he might miss something if he left!

Dagon had said Aziraphale would be … _what was it again?_ ... ‘drilled’ next, and Crowley had no idea what that meant. It must be some new element they had added to the machine. He would find out momentarily anyway.

“The final punishment will be the drilling,” Dagon announced. 

Several demons around Crowley chuckled and elbowed each other knowingly. He’d clearly missed something by skipping out on the recent public disciplines.

There was a whirring and clinking as the machine began to readjust. The cuffs on Aziraphale’s ankles pulled his legs farther and farther apart while the bolster tipped him forward even more. The machine didn’t stop until the entirety of his glistening pussy was in view, stretched wide open between baby-blond curls nestled betwixt his spread thighs.

“The problem, Aziraphale,” Gabriel began loudly, “is that your _appetite_ clouds your good judgment. You imagine that you could easily take a demon’s cock, but you are sorely mistaken, as will now be demonstrated to you.”

Another machine arm emerged from below, wielding an absurdly large obsidian phallus. As it made its way towards Aziraphale’s exposed cunthole, the meaning of “drilling” became abundantly clear.

“He’zz right,” Beelzebub said, smirking. “Fucking a demon would be no simple matter for a szzweet, szzoft angel like you. How convenient that you’ve made us such a darling little cunny, though, to demonstrate what we mean. You’ll need proper training to be able to take a cock like Crawly’zzz.”

There it was. Crowley was called out as the supposed object of Aziraphale’s lust. Other demons gave him amused grins, but he barely noticed. Too much blood had rushed to the wrong head, and he could only stare in amazement as the massive dildo moved between Aziraphale’s legs, dread and arousal churning equal parts in his gut.

Aziraphale was sweating bullets. Strapped down so tightly and spread so open, he could do nothing but watch in wide eyed horror as the image before him showed an alarmingly large phallus making its way towards his defenseless pussy. He winced when it kissed his hole and then, without hesitation, pushed through his virgin entrance, his lips spreading around its massive girth. He made a strangled, high pitched sound, toes curling, as he was abundantly filled.

“Wow!” Beelzebub barked out a laugh. “He’zz awfully slick already izzn’t he? Perhaps we undereszztimated the angel!” 

The worst part about the Prince’s taunt was that it was true. Aziraphale’s chubby cunt had moistened to sopping during his punishment, and now throbbed hot and eager, pulsing with rapture around the giant phallus. 

Gabriel shrugged in an effort to hide how appalled he looked. “You have more lust than sense,” he scolded Aziraphale, “but we hope this experience will remedy that flaw within you.”

Aziraphale wished he would discorporate on the spot. It was downright shameful. He really was nothing more than a vile, filthy, wanton creature who deserved this humiliating punishment. And more. _Oh, good lord,_ was Crowley watching? Would Crowley be disgusted by this flagrant display of impropriety?

All hopes Aziraphale had of maintaining any respectability throughout this miserable affair vanished when the machine began fucking him with the phallus. So this was what they meant by being ‘drilled.’ It felt much more like being split open with his pussy stretched so impossibly wide. The thing pushed deep inside of him at a slow, steady pace. As it became more and more coated with his arousal, a disgraceful wet _squelch_ sounded loudly with each thrust.

This was more humiliation than Aziraphale thought he could endure, but then Beelzebub said, “Speed it up!” and the phallus gained momentum, increasing to a rapid, brutal fuck that sent him wailing from the intensity. It nudged relentlessly at the most sensitive places of his overwrought sex while his sore buttocks throbbed in unison with the thrusts. A familiar tingling pressure was suddenly building within and Aziraphale panicked. _Oh no oh no oh no!_ He absolutely could _not_ have an orgasm in front of a hall of demons staring at his naked, well-thrashed backside while his cunt was speared by an enormous dildo! 

Unfortunately, he was powerless to stop it, and came with a broken cry and an embarrassing gush of fluids between his legs.

Crowley had to covertly miracle away the quickly wet puddle cooling inside his pants after shooting off untouched like some teenage human. The scene before him had simply been too much for his libido to bear. The phallus, now coated with slick, was pulled from Aziraphale’s cunt which was left gaping from the violation, and Crowley’s entire body buzzed even though his cock had already spent. 

It took him a moment to realize Beelzebub was speaking again, “And if the Archangel has to bring you back here, Principality, next time we’ll szzpread you open, take a strip of leather and szztrap that pink angel cunt. Then we’ll use two dildos - one for each luszztful hole - coated in hellfire root oil first, of course.” They cackled in amusement.

 _Fuck._ That shouldn’t make Crowley’s limp cock twitch, but it did. A disposable demon began releasing Aziraphale from the machine, and Crowley staggered back, unable to bear the risk of facing the angel. After a moment’s hesitation, he darted away, ashamed.

Later that evening, Aziraphale was lying on the sofa in the bookshop (on his stomach of course!) naked from the waist down, cooling his smoldering buttocks. He slipped in and out of sleep and would occasionally work a hand between his legs, dipping his fingers into his cunt, marveling at how wet and gaping it still was from Hell’s ‘drilling.’ Then the mortification would kick back in, and he’d jerk his hand away, heart twisting at what Crowley might think of him. He’d looked briefly into the crowd of demons for Crowley on his way out of Hell, but hadn’t seen him. Perhaps the demon had just been so disgusted that he’d left early.

It was well past dark when Aziraphale opened his eyes to see Crowley sitting in a nearby chair, looking terribly grim. Aziraphale sat up quickly, wincing at the soreness his movement reignited in his bottom.

“Crowley!” he said, blushing as he pulled the blanket over himself to cover his nakedness. His heart pounded, nerves spiking over what Crowley may want to discuss.

“I’m so, so sorry, Angel,” Crowley said, voice thick. “It’s all my fault.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. That was not at all what he was expecting.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Crowley took a deep breath. “I mean what happened to you today, of course!” The demon’s face turned nearly as red as his hair while he spoke. “I-I saw. I wish I could have done something to stop it, but you know I couldn’t. It was my fault, though. That they’ve all got the wrong idea about you! You’re just … _too kind_.”

So Crowley _had_ seen. Aziraphale swallowed hard, his own face turning scarlet. “Oh. Well, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry you had to witness that … that offensive display.”

Crowley tilted his head. “Well … I wouldn’t call it _offensive_ , but it must have been terrible for you! I’ve been in that machine, but never like _that_ , and I never meant for something like that to happen to you!”

“But it’s not your fault, Crowley! _I’m_ the one who’s been lusting for you!” Aziraphale realized what he’d just admitted bit his bottom lip.

Crowley gave his head a little shake. “Wait, what?” So that was _true_? “The Archangels actually got it right?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale confirmed in a small voice. “How could I not lust after you?”

Crowley made some strangled sounds, struggling to work them into words. “Oh, er, um, well, then. That’s different. I suppose. But you still didn’t deserve all …” he waved his hand in the air, “ _that_.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was disgusting for you to observe. I really wish you hadn’t seen.”

“Disgusting!? Are you kidding? I came in my pants!” Crowley snapped his mouth shut, eyes going wide at the accidental admission. “Er, I mean - oh, bless it all - I’m sorry, Angel, but it’s true! It was terrible, but honestly one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen!”

Aziraphale’s cheeks were blazing, but a smile tweaked at his lips. He fidgeted before admitting, “Well, I did, too, you know. I mean that I … orgasmed. You saw, though, didn’t you?”

Crowley’s ears burned and he rubbed at his nose. “I wasn’t sure. But you’re not seriously trying to tell me you _enjoyed_ that.”

“Oh, well no. I mean, not _really_. I suppose ... maybe a little? Honestly, the worst part was worrying that you were watching and would be revolted by seeing me - ”

“Never!” Crowley interrupted firmly. “I could never be.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Aziraphale smiled shyly. “I’m only saying that it was horrible agony, humiliating beyond all belief, nearly impossible to bear, but … also sort of _delicious_ , you know? Oh, I must sound like a nutter!”

Crowley was sitting on the edge of his seat, looking so intensely at Aziraphale the angel had to look away. “No, I do know. I know exactly what you mean.”

They sat in silence for several moments.

“So, what do we do now?” Aziraphale asked finally. “If our feelings of, er, _lust_ are mutual, then …” he raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“But isn’t it too dangerous? They’re clearly onto us. Shouldn’t we stay apart?”

“Oh, I couldn’t bear that, Crowley!”

“But you might get in trouble again. You heard what Beelzebub said. You’ll be back in Hell in that machine if they catch us.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a sly little grin, and said something so outrageous that the demon nearly fell out of his chair, “Well, my dear, certainly that wouldn’t be _so_ bad, don’t you agree?” The angel's face flushed a delightful pink, and he gave a little excited wiggled before asking, "So, is it true, then? What they said down there about ... " he swallowed, "your _member_?"

Crowley choked out, "M-my - wh-what?"

"You know," Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and gave Crowley's crotch a pointed look, the blotch on his face spread to his neck, "Is it really all that enormous and, um, hard to take?"

Crowley quickly recovered from his shock and chuckled before winking at Aziraphale, "I suppose you'll just have to find out, Angel."


	2. Return to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a birthday fic for my amazing friend [Aivelin](https://twitter.com/Aiverin) who requested to see Aziraphale back in Hell's machine!

Aziraphale was in trouble again. It was starting to feel like trouble was his true, Enochian name. This time, Aziraphale had been called in for a ‘private session’ conducted by select members of the Heavenly and Dark Counsel both. Crowley would be terribly disappointed he didn’t get to watch. _Oh well._ Aziraphale would just have to fill him in on the details later. It was uncomfortably quiet up on Hell’s stage without the racket from a crowd of rowdy demons behind the viewing window. The _Machine_ loomed ominously, and Aziraphale gave it nervous, darting glances as doubt crept over him. Maybe flaunting his newfound relationship with Crowley hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Of course, Gabriel was present, wearing his seemingly ever-present haughty sneer. Michael stood by looking grim. Beelzebub seemed as bored as ever, legs swung over one arm of the throne. A pair of large, scary looking demons Aziraphale didn’t recognize flanked the Prince of Hell, their expressions unreadable.

Aziraphale was already naked, and he stood wringing his hands in front of his pudgy belly and squirming, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Michael had scolded him at length about _consorting_ with a demon while he’d shimmied out of his clothes, face red and ears burning. He struggled to swallow a lump in his throat, awaiting further instruction as the group stared impassively at his exposed body. Finally, he was ordered to get into the machine, which at least gave him something to do, though he trembled as he stepped up and bent over the bolster of the apparatus. His heart pounded as the machine whirred, strapping him in tightly, and he was all at once completely at its mercy.

Aziraphale was expecting to be spanked, of course, and so he was understandably confused when the machine immediately flipped him over so that he was facing the ceiling. He gave a little surprised squawk as his legs were forced to spread and bend at the knee, exposing the entirety of fleshy cunt to those in attendance. Gabriel sauntered over and smirked down at Aziraphale's bright red face.

“We warned you what would happen, didn’t we, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, because suddenly he _did_ remember. He’d been a bit distracted at the time, overwrought and blissed out from the machine’s ministrations, but he now recalled something Beelzebub said about strapping his ... _Oh no!_ He squirmed a bit in his restraints, trying to close his legs to no avail, and Gabriel chuckled darkly. Aziraphale craned his neck and saw that the machine was raising a pair of wide but lightweight leather straps up in front of his spread legs. There was absolutely nothing Aziraphale could do but watch as one was raised and then brought down right against his cunt with a loud _snap!_ Almost immediately after, the other strap swung back and then snapped _up_ across his stinging vulva and he squealed. The two straps continued alternating strokes, one after the other; down, up, down, up, _snap, crack, smack!_ until Aziraphale was howling, his delicate pussy strapped to a blazing fire.

Finally, it ended, the straps moving out of sight. Aziraphale’s inflamed cunt was left red, sore, and puffy, his clit throbbing from the delicious, _agonizing_ ache; a stimulating blend of pleasure and pain.

Aziraphale hoped that neither the angels nor demons in attendance would notice how sopping wet his cunt was, or how swollen his clit had become; his sex flushed, twitching and shockingly close to orgasm. If he just took some deep, steadying breaths and held it together, they’d never notice. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose.

“All right Aziraphale, it’s time to change your effort,” Michael said, repulsion dripping from her voice.

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open, bulging out, “Wh-what?!” his voice came out half a strangled choke. “But … I …” He couldn’t change now! His arousal would be so _obvious_ if he changed to a cock!

“You have five seconds to change it, or we’ll repeat the strapping against your current effort again.”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“We can do this all day, Aziraphale.”

“Right … of course.”

Aziraphale scrunched up his face and concentrated, reforming his genitals per request, a shudder going up his spine as a cock and testicles emerged where his cunt had been. The newly manifested cock, short and stout, swelled to full-mast immediately, a pearl of liquid leaking from the tip.

“Ha! I knew it!” Gabriel shouted, pumping his fist in the air, and Aziraphale bit his lip.

“Just as we suspected,” Michael said, lips pressed firmly together. Aziraphale’s face burned. “We have just the thing to deal with your little problem.”

 _It’s not_ that _little._ Aziraphale couldn’t help but pout. 

“Heaven and Hell keep thorough records and duplicates of all manner of human innovation should anything provide useful for our own purposes. We never thought to have use for this particular item, especially not on an _angel_ , but here we are. As always, you defy all logic and sense, Aziraphale.” She inclined her head towards one of the demons standing by Beelzebub. “If you would.”

The masculine demon was enormous; broad, tall and muscular. He had dark hair, the locks dirty and matted against his oversized head, his eyes a shocking shade of red. He moved towards Aziraphale with an eager, lopsided grin. Aziraphale could only watch the approach strapped down with his legs spread open, erection pointing skyward. His mind raced with all manner of terrifying tortures that might be in store for him. The demon was holding something that looked like a small piece of metal jewelry, and Aziraphale furrowed his brow, heart pounding, unable to make out the details.

“That is a spermatorrhea ring,” Michael clarified, her voice clipped and clinical. “Also known as a ‘Jugum Penis.’ It’s primarily an anti-masturbatory device, but also can be worn during sleep to prevent nocturnal arousal and emissions.”

Aziraphale went pale and shook his head fiercely from side to side. He was vaguely familiar with the apparatus; an unpleasant appliance that fastened around one’s cock and served more or less as a little spiked cock ring to discourage erections. It would surely be agonizing in his current state. “No,” he whispered. “Please … no!” 

“Yes! It’s precisely what you need. We must ensure that punishment remains punishment and not … _recreation._ ” Michael spat the word with distaste.

Sweat broke out across Aziraphale’s forehead, his pulse ratcheting as the demon, leering all the way, bent and took Aziraphale’s chubby little erection roughly in his hand. Aziraphale’s cock twitched, and though his heart threatened to pound out of his chest, a little moan slipped unwittingly past his lips at the stimulation. The demon huffed a _heh!_ and then clamped the metal ring around the base of Aziraphale’s cock. The spikes encircled his penis, jabbing into the tender flesh. He gasped, and his erection wilted almost immediately, balls aching from aborted release. His cock stung terribly where the sharp metal pricked against it.

The brawny demon chuckled and gave Aziraphale’s testicles a sharp smack before walking away. Aziraphale let out a strangled shriek, going momentarily cross-eyed from the nauseating pain that shot up from between his legs. This was why he didn’t prefer this type of effort; it was far too vulnerable! The machine gave a sudden lurch, creaking as the gears turned. Aziraphale was readjusted slowly, flipped back over, head down, backside up in the air. It was a far more familiar position for discipline - for a traditional spanking, at least. Aziraphale might have breathed a sigh of relief but for the agony of the spiked ring fixed around his cock. Heaven and Hell were certainly pulling out all the stops, and he feared he was in for even more unpleasantness before they were through. 

Aziraphale hazily noted that he was not shown a real time image of his backside this time. Without the live-feed, everything would be a surprise as opposed to seeing what was going to happen while being powerless to stop it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure which was worse. There was more metallic whirring from behind, and then Aziraphale felt four cool metal hooks touch the inner cheeks of his buttocks, digging into the plump skin and then spreading him wide open. Cool air ghosted across his exposed anus. 

There was a sudden whistling sound, and then a vertical burning line of burning fire erupted along the inner crease of Aziraphale’s buttocks, just to one side of his stretched hole. He gasped. Another whistle and a parallel line burst into flames on the opposite side. Aziraphale became quite certain the narrow implement was a cane as each stroke cut into his tender, intimate skin. It snapped down right against his wrinkled hole, and Aziraphale screamed. Of course, his cries went ignored, and his crack was mercilessly caned until it was a stinging collection of puffy pink welts and Aziraphale was a begging, blubbering mess.

“Wow, that sure looks sore,” Gabriel said, all mock concern and self-satisfied smirk, as he sauntered over. 

Gabriel snapped his fingers at the demon who hadn’t touched Aziraphale yet. This one was just as large and brawny, but had long sandy hair pulled back in a ponytail. He seemed to roll his jet black, pupil-less eyes, but came over without complaint, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s hip.

“We’ve invented a little something,” Gabriel continued, leering with interest, “and you’re going to be the first angel to try it out. It’s a sort of … medication. You aren’t the only angel having problems with _temptation_ , you know. We’re hoping it will serve as an anti-arousal treatment. Not sure if it works yet, though. It may have the opposite effect, actually, in which case the Jugum Penis will do its job instead! Let’s try it out and see what happens, why don’t we?” 

Something small was pressed against Aziraphale’s inflamed anus and he yelped. 

“Oh, didn’t I mention?” Gabriel said. “The medication is given via suppository.”

The demon pushed the small pellet up into Aziraphale’s rectum, probably farther than needed, and certainly with more wriggling and thrusting of his thick finger than was necessary.

“Don’t want it leaking back out either,” Gabriel said, and a much larger something - a plug, probably - was suddenly against Aziraphale’s hole. “Don’t worry, though. We’ve lubed this up so it should slide right in.”

It did, in fact. The thick rubber dart pushed up inside his hole with surprising ease, though Aziraphale whimpered as his welted anus was stretched around it. Only a few moments passed before Aziraphale began to _burn_. He clenched and squirmed as much as he could in his restraints, but the fire only escalated, scorching him from the inside out. He whined, a pitiful sound that quickly grew in volume and pitch as his arsehole rapidly heated up.

Gabriel laughed. “Nothing’s slicker - or _hotter_ \- than hellfire root oil!”

Aziraphale was downright wailing now, gnashing his teeth and shaking his head as though the fire blazing inside him would subside if he denied its existence.

“Izz it working?” Beelzebub asked, sounding mildly interested. 

“We can’t be sure yet,” Michael answered. “Oh! Why don’t we try the other thing, as well.”

Aziraphale's pain-muddled mind heard them speaking, but couldn’t make sense of anything with his anus ablaze. Suddenly, the dark-haired burly demon was standing next to him. The demon’s hand was then on Aziraphale’s chest, groping for his hanging tits, rough fingers searching until he found and pinched one pink nipple in his fingers. He then fastened a metal clamp onto it. The same treatment was repeated on the other nipple. Aziraphale grit his teeth, the metal digging into his sensitive teats, a wicked, burning pinch that throbbed down his spine. At this point, he had no idea what the Archangels thought they were accomplishing, but he was certainly in no state of mind to speculate.

Aziraphale was in anguish, helplessly bent over and strapped into the machine, every nerve on fire. A sheen of sweat had broken out over his skin. His arse, his cock, and his nipples were all pulsing hot in time with his heartbeat. Understandably distracted, he barely noticed when the hooks spreading his arse open moved away, and was caught completely unawares by a burst of stinging hot pain that erupted against his left buttock. There was no mistaking that deep, penetrating sting. It was the paddle for sure, likely drilled through with half a dozen nasty blister holes if the intensity was any indication. A second swat came down hard against his right buttock. The paddle alternated sides, starting at the top of his crack, and then moving slowly down to thoroughly punish every bit of Aziraphale's ample bottom which was soon sizzling hot. His chubby tits swung with each impact, the little metal clamps weighing down and yanking on his nipples in excruciating fashion. 

It was all very nearly too much, the mix of sensations threatening to overwhelm his celestial psyche. Aziraphale’s cock kept attempting to harden, only to be stabbed by the spikes of the metal ring fastened around it. Each time, Aziraphale would yelp and then moan, and then shriek and cry as he was paddled relentlessly through it all.

The Archangels shook their heads, and one of the large demons laughed, adding in his two cents, “Doesn’t seem to be working, does it?”

“No,” Michael answered testily, pressing her lips together.

Gabriel crossed his arms and let out a frustrated sound. "Well, damn it all to ... well, to _here._ "

If anything, the ‘medication’ that had been inserted up Aziraphale’s arsehole was having the opposite effect. The paddle hurt like ... well, like _Hell_ , but even so, with every burning swat, Aziraphale’s passions became more and more inflamed, the neurons in his corporation firing at top speed. His body was warm all over, with sizzling hot pinpoints at his nipples, cock, arsehole, and buttocks. If it weren’t for the Jugum Penis, and he were able to orgasm, he surely would have by now. As it was, he suffered through a tortuous cycle of his cock stiffening only to be pricked by the sharp metal, making it wilt again. It was an excruciating sort of edging, and by the end, Aziraphale could only weep.

The machine finally stopped and was moving with its telltale whirring sound. Aziraphale’s face was red and tear-streaked, his mouth hanging open as he gulped for air, letting a bit of drool dip from the corners, his eyes screwed shut. And then Gabriel took the photographs. Photographs from _every_ angle.

“We’ll be sending these photos out with the next Heaven-wide memo. You may still be hopeless, Aziraphale, but it might serve as a good deterrent to others anyway, don't you think?”

Aziraphale only whimpered. He was an aching, swollen, blistered, burning mess, a hairsbreadth away from collapse … or orgasm, if the Jungum Penis would have allowed it. He was in no state to feel embarrassed at the moment.[1]

“You should send him home juszzt like this,” Beelzebub suggested. “We can send his clotheszz back to him later. It’ll prolong whatever leszzon we may have imparted. Yeszz, he still strugglezz with arouszzal, but it can't hurt. Oh, and, Principality?" they spoke directly to Aziraphale, "Fair warning, that medication will be unpleaszzant coming back out.”

And so Aziraphale was miracled back to his bookshop, naked, plugged, cock-ringed, and clamped. When his feet hit the rug, he stumbled, only to be caught in Crowley’s arms.

“Angel, what … what in the _Hell_. Where were you?”

“Reprimand,” Aziraphale croaked out with a shudder and a groan. “Wasn’t public this time. Sorry.”

“Oh … _oh!_ Satan, Aziraphale, don’t apologize! What were you thinking? I didn’t _really_ mean for you to get into trouble again. I was only teasing. Are you all right? Well, of course you’re not all right.” It was a massive understatement since Aziraphale had _clearly_ just been through a harrowing experience. “What can I do, Angel?”

Aziraphale stepped back, staggering a bit and gestured to his cock. “Please … please, help!”

Crowley’s sunglasses slipped down his nose and his yellow eyes widened. “ _Shit!_ ” 

With great care, and a lot of whimpering and trembling on Aziraphale’s part, Crowley removed the Jugum Penis. Aziraphale’s cock stiffened at once and immediately began spurting as he let out a high-pitched wail, collapsing again in Crowley’s embrace. After he was completely spent, he sighed in relief, and Crowley shushed him, rubbing his back and holding him close.

“The … the clamps too, please,” Aziraphale begged.

Crowley gently released them, and Aziraphale yelped as the blood painfully rushed back, his spent cock twitching too soon.

“The arousal suppressant isn’t working,” he mumbled against Crowley’s chest, groaning.

“The what?” Crowley asked, sounding terribly confused.

“They put some … some sort of medication up my …” Aziraphale’s cheeks burned nearly as much as his backside, “... my arsehole.” Crowley placed a tentative hand on Aziraphale’s naked bottom, fingers searching and finding the plug. “That's the plug ... holding it in. It’s supposed to be an anti-arousal medication, but it seems to be having the opposite effect.”

“Oh really?” Crowley sounded far more keen than concerned, and Aziraphale could swear he saw devil horns perk up on top of the demon’s head.

“Hush, you … you _fiend!_ I am in agony!”

“How about if you change your effort?”

“What? Why?” Aziraphale furrowed his clammy brow.

“Wellllll, I just mean …” Crowley’s own cheeks flushed, and he looked away, scratching absently at his chin, “The other sort of effort is better equipped at … er … repeated stimulation. And I’ll be here to, um, assist you through it.”

Aziraphale huffed out a laugh, a small smile blooming on his face. “Crowley, you're incorrigible. Are you really offering to give me ... multiple orgasms?”

Crowley waggled his eyebrows and stuck out his serpentine tongue. “Only if you’d like.”

Another wave of lust swept through Aziraphale, and his cock ached, trying to harden again, still too soon after shooting off. He groaned, and then, with a resigned sigh, quickly changed his effort. It emerged wet and open, clit already throbbing; more than ready to take Crowley up on his offer. They’d need to remove the plug and medication eventually, of course, and sure, Aziraphale would be in desperate need of some ointment, ice-packs, and heating pads afterwards, but first … 

“Oh, I think I'd like, Crowley. Very much!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Of course, when the memo was later published, Aziraphale felt a great deal of embarrassment and couldn’t even bear to look at the photographs. Though he suspected Crowley masturbated to them more than once, which Aziraphale didn’t mind so much.[return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)  
> 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://hiphopanonymousao3.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I ALMOST FORGOT to give a shout-out to [SparkleInTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/pseuds/SparkleInTheStars) who originally came up with the wonderful idea of Hellfire root!


End file.
